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That surprises me. “Really?”
“The moon can move tides. We’re about sixty percent water, so it’s not a stretch to think that other celestial entities could affect our personalities and moods if they can control something as big as our oceans.”
“It sounds like you know a lot about it.”
“There was a time in my life when all I did was read, and when you run out of crime thrillers and killer biographies, you have to move on to other stuff. Where I was, the choice was limited.”
“Where was that.”
“Prison.”
His words bite into the air between us.
We stare at each other.
“Prison?” I whisper. “For what?”
He’s very still as he replies, “For murder.”
Despite the warm bath water, my skin pebbles.
“Does that frighten you?” His voice is low.
I don’t move. “Yes.”
His expression falters—almost as if it hurt him to hear me admit it.
“You don’t have to be,” he says. “I didn’t do it.”
I raise an eyebrow.
How many prisons are filled with people who didn’t do it?
“Then how did you get sent away?”
His throat works as he thinks.
“I was an easy scapegoat. The town freak. The mutant everyone was afraid of, so it was easy to pin the crime on me.”
I realize I’ve been holding my breath and let it go. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Do you?”
His eyes are warm and dark as he gazes at me from the other end of the tub.
I nod slowly. “Yes.”
He thinks for a moment. His stubble-covered jaw tenses.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say softly. “You don’t have to explain anything to me if it’s hard for you.”
“I want you to know. But I don’t want you to be frightened of me. I would never hurt you.” His brows draw together. “The person I was accused of murdering was my girlfriend.”
The sharp inhale of breath rushes through my teeth.
His girlfriend.
My heart speeds up.
